Dawn took the side of the bed my mom once slept in and that left me the side that was John’s. I’d sometimes look in on him sleeping before we flew back home, but wouldn’t wake him, it was easier saying goodbye to myself. And so now I’m here with all his dreams swimming around me no different than my own dad’s or mine, the dreams of our fathers, no matter how many times you wash the sheets some things won’t come out.
Last night I dreamt I met one of my favorite singers and gave a toast for him, got to see him for how he was as a kid, his eyes and freckles real to me, locked on mine, listening. I said he was someone I knew so well before I got to meet him in person, I knew him first through his records, and what he made.
And like having kids, is that the best part of us, what we made? And how much is the rest worth knowing? And if you haven’t yet made what you set out to, then how much of a someone are you to yourself? Are you just passing through?
I was leaning in the shade of a storefront and some tourists asked me when the store opened and was there some other place in town they could buy spirits? They couldn’t read the signs, it was like a new language to them. I said I’m just visiting, good luck.